


Doggy Style

by Chantress



Series: And Yet Here We Are [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: But Geralt is stubborn and tight-lipped about everything so who knows, Certainly not me and I WROTE the damn story, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Dog Tallow, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Lube, M/M, Not Lube, Unfortunate Implications of Video Game Mechanics, Vague references to past sexual experiences that may not have been entirely consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress/pseuds/Chantress
Summary: How Jaskier decided to become the Designated Lube-Getter of the relationship, and related matters.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: And Yet Here We Are [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614133
Comments: 8
Kudos: 261





	Doggy Style

**Author's Note:**

> So I finished playing through the first Witcher game the other night! (Yes, this fandom has eaten my brain.) It's a lot of fun, but some of the items Geralt picks up? Um. _Wow._ So naturally, there needed to be fic about it. :P
> 
> (Chronologically speaking, this story is set prior to the other fics in the series; the boys haven't met Yennefer yet, but I have Reasons for putting it later in the series order.)

It says something, it really does, that Jaskier's _this_ eager to fuck Geralt out here on the cold, hard ground in the middle of nowhere. If it were anyone else, he would have insisted on pursuing matters later, in an actual bed, ideally after a hot meal and a glass or two of wine. But all Geralt has to do is look at him a certain way, and the part of Jaskier's brain that's in charge of considering matters like _foreplay_ and _comfort_ and _sensuality_ gets shoved unceremoniously into the back seat by the part that fixates on how good Geralt's ass looks in those damnably tight pants and how much better it would look _out_ of them, preferably as soon as humanly possible.  
  
Of course, both parts of his brain still have certain standards. Damn it all anyway.  
  
"Uh, Geralt," Jaskier says, the words coming out thick and breathless, "you _do_ remember we ran out of lube yesterday, right?"  
  
"We'll manage," Geralt says, and goes right back to sucking marks into the soft skin of Jaskier's inner thighs.  
  
"Yes, well, glad as I am to have that assurance," Jaskier gasps, "if you're still interested in doing all those things you growled into my ear a few minutes ago, some sort of lubricant is absolutely necessary. Somehow--oh _fuck_ , right there!--somehow, I doubt even Witchers are immune to chafing."  
  
Geralt hums at this, one of his noncommittal "Hm"s that acknowledges the other party has made a contribution to the conversation but neither confirms nor denies a single thing. Bastard.  
  
Jaskier grabs a double handful of Geralt's hair and tugs; he can't actually budge his lover any, physically speaking, but Geralt goes along with the suggestion anyway, finally lifting his head from between Jaskier's legs to meet his eyes.  
  
"I have some things in my pack," Geralt says. "It won't smell as nice as our usual fare, but it'll do the job."  
  
"Oh thank fuck," Jaskier breathes. "I'll just go and fetch that, shall I?"  
  
"Mmm," Geralt rumbles, and half reclines back on the bedroll with one knee bent and a hand around his cock as he watches Jaskier with hooded eyes.  
  
Jaskier's normally nimble fingers fumble with the fastenings of the pack. _Distracting_ bastard.  
  
Geralt grins as if hearing the thought, stroking himself slowly. "You'll want the jar with the white lid. The others are for my swords."  
  
"Right. White lid. Got it. Vampire oil would definitely put a damper on the proceedings, wouldn't it." Jaskier bites his lip and focuses pointedly on the contents of Geralt's pack instead of the contents of Geralt's hand.  
  
It's not often that he gets the chance to look through Geralt's things like this, and Jaskier spares a moment of appreciation for how organized everything is: all the little packets of herbs and powders are carefully labeled, the various potions and oils are color-coded and tucked into specially-made pouches. It makes Jaskier feel vaguely uncomfortable about his own pack, which is much more on the "shove everything in and pray it still closes" side of things.  
  
After a little rummaging, Jaskier finds the promised jar and takes it out of its holster with a triumphant cry.  
  
"There! Now we can..." Jaskier's voice trails off as he takes in the label on the jar.  
  
"Jaskier?"  
  
" _Seriously_ , Geralt? You _seriously, actually,_ in a _completely literal and non-ironic way_ , want me to use _this_ on you?"  
  
"I know it's nothing fancy, but it's slick enough."  
  
"It's _dog tallow_ , Geralt! Tallow! Made from _dogs!_ "  
  
Geralt's eyes slide away from Jaskier's; his expression gives nothing away, but the tension in his shoulders suggests embarrassment... or shame. "I've had to use worse, plenty of times."  
  
Jaskier takes a long breath in through his nose, lets it back out slowly while mentally counting to ten. It's not often that Geralt volunteers anything about his sexual history prior to the two of them falling into bed together several years back, half by accident, half by design, but from the bits and pieces Jaskier's managed to puzzle together from his lover's offhand comments and weighted silences, not all of it has been ideal.  
  
It makes Jaskier fucking _furious_ whenever he thinks about it, the thousand ways Geralt denies himself things he craves because he thinks he doesn't deserve them, or because he's gotten so used to going without and making do with whatever scraps get thrown his way that he thinks that's all there _is_ to life.  
  
But getting mad isn't going to help right now, because then of course Geralt will assume that Jaskier's mad at _him_ , and while his stubborn asshole of a Witcher may look absolutely delectable when he broods, Jaskier could do without the week of hurt silence that goes along with it, thank you very much.  
  
"All right, change of plans," Jaskier says, voice deliberately light as he tucks the jar back into its place in Geralt's pack. "Since the available materials are somewhat, ah, lacking in sophistication, we'll have to try something a bit less... penetrative in nature."  
  
Geralt tips his head to one side, gaze intent as he regards Jaskier. "What do you have in mind?"  
  
"Well," Jaskier drawls, running a hand up Geralt's thigh, "I thought it might be fun to see if I can make you scream yourself hoarse while I eat you out."  
  
Geralt's lips twitch, even as his eyes burn hot with desire. "That may take a while."  
  
Jaskier grins. "I'd be disappointed if it didn't."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Doggy Style](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24248689) by [Chantress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress/pseuds/Chantress)




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